


Bah Humbug!

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [52]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Christmas Story, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, bad dream, love and romance, sexually explicit, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm has booked a Christmas getaway for himself and Sam......but he's very nervous.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bah Humbug!

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt I had a long time ago from Petersgal .....and I'm sorry it's taken so long to fill it. But I've been so busy! It was a great prompt though, and I really hope you'll like how it came out.   
> This was the prompt.......
> 
> "Malcolm and sam had watched a christmas carol and then went to bed..malcolm had a rather disturbing dream that night..leave it with you.."
> 
> I really didn't want to go melancholy with this, I wanted a happy Christmas story that was upbeat and positive......so here it is!! 
> 
> This is a stand alone story and not part of any AU I've written in the past. It is completely unconnected.

BAH HUMBUG!

 

Malcolm lit the candles, on the hearth, then stood back to admire the effect.   
Arms were threaded around his middle, from the side, a head resting against him.   
"Very romantic!" Sam cooed, appreciatively.  
"Don't take the piss! I'm trying! It's not my fucking fault there's no power!" Malcolm huffed. 

oOo

It had been Malcolm's idea, he'd booked it, a romantic Christmas break.   
Women liked that sort of thing, he thought.   
They liked candles and twinkly lights, roaring fires and mulled wine, all that shit.   
If he was honest with himself it was also a wooing tactic. He and Sam had been an item for a quite a while now, off and on.  
Off and on because opportunities didn't seem to present themselves with any frequency. There was always something to keep them from being together.   
His fucking job mainly.   
Not to mention the fact that he didn't really want people knowing. It made him feel vulnerable, exposed. A possible weapon that someone could use against him. He was just used to always being so fucking careful, where women were concerned, no skeletons.   
Having an ex wife was bad enough, but she was completely out of the equation, there were no juicy stories to be milked there.   
She had numerous affairs, fucked him up, poisoned his heart, divorced him, then took half his money. End of story.   
Bitch.   
It was a long time before he ever went near another woman, let alone dated.   
Sam was a revelation, a slow realisation, a fucking miracle.   
They stole the odd evening, the occasional weekend, nothing really planned and no real commitment, and it always left him wanting more.   
She was patient with him, calm and serene, loving and gentle, and he was fucking ear 'oles over breakfast time!   
Scared the bloody crap out of him. He wasn't sure if Sam knew it, or if she felt the same, and he was far too shit scared to say anything.   
Terrified of making a tit of himself.   
Too much too soon......or not enough.   
Fuckety fuck! It was a sodding minefield. 

The Christmas break had been Malcolm Tucker taking the bull by the horns.   
Facing his own increasingly certain reality. He wanted this. He wanted her.   
He knew she had no family. He did......in Scotland. His mother passed away only the previous year, and the thought of spending Christmas at his sister's with his niece and nephew, although not entirely abhorrent, just somehow didn't seem to fit the bill.   
This year he wanted it to be special, different, he wanted Sam to be a part of it, and not all about him.   
There was a four day break this year, Christmas fell over the weekend, so there were two bank holidays. Everything was winding down on the Thursday.   
That would give him five days, Christmas Eve till the Tuesday, back to work on Wednesday.....barring catastrophe.   
Perfect.   
Now was his chance. But had he the balls?   
He'd wait and see how it went when they got there.   
Her eyebrows raised in surprise when he'd broached the subject with her. The smile she'd given him, made his stomach do strange gymnastics, triple Yurchenko, with a Tsukahara thrown in for good measure.   
It did, however, serve to give him courage.   
"Really? Just you and me?" She wasn't sure he was serious.   
"Yeah.....I mean, if you don't want to......" Fuck, but he was back peddling now, shit!   
Then she'd thrown her arms around his neck, started crying, said how he must have known, how she wasn't looking forward to spending the holiday alone, how wonderful it would be.   
Well done Tucker! You did good son! 

 

oOo

So here they were. 

"It was Christmas Eve in the Workhouse, the snow was falling fast, we don't want your Christmas pud.....shove it up your......."  
"Malcolm!!" She giggled.   
"My da used to say that rhyme, when we were kids!"   
Suitcases down, coats off, warm inside after the chill outside.   
The cottage was lovely. Rustic, remote, and fucking expensive! 

It was decorated, there was a real tree. A fire burning in the hearth.   
They'd eaten dinner, enjoyed a glass of wine, then put their coats and gloves on and walked down to the little stone church, for a Carol Service.   
Not exactly Malcolm's thing, but, if it's what Sam wanted, it's what Sam got.   
Sitting in the drafty pews, a scent of mildew and woodworm, mingled with wax candles and furniture polish.   
The choir sang Away in a Manger, and Sam's eyes glistened, she clutched on to Malcolm's arm tightly.........and he couldn't look at her......just couldn't.......because he felt so fucking strange.   
Light headed.   
He swallowed thickly, coughed slightly, stared down unseeing at his hymn book.   
His chest ached, felt like it would burst.   
Her face was flushed, excited, her breath in clouds as they walked back, their hands linked. Stealing surreptitious side glances at her, and wishing he didn't feel so defenceless. Fuck it all, he was in deep. So deep. 

They curled up together on the couch. Switched on the telly for the Christmas Eve movie......."A Christmas Carol."   
Ebeneezer Scrooge, Tiny Tim. Sam sniffed frequently as they watched, buried her face into his side when the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come appeared. Said it always terrified her as a child. Smiled as Scrooge capered about, on waking on Christmas morning and realising it was all a dream, and he had another chance.   
Lovely. What Christmas was all about, she beamed!   
"Saccharine nonsense!" Malcolm scoffed.   
She laughed at him.   
"Okay, Jacob Marley! The chain around your neck, that you've forged all these years, is so heavy you can barely raise your own head!"   
"Sam! That's a fucking horrible thing to say!" Malcolm looked at her askance.   
"It's true though. You're married to your bloody job! It has you by the balls, squeezing the life and fun out of you, turning you into Marley.....or Scrooge.......the story is an allegorical one, and it's particularly pertinent to you." Her face registered sadness.  
"I'm not a miser.....I'm here now, aren't I? I'm doing my very best here......." His hurt expression softened her.   
"Don't let it swallow you up completely, Malcolm, you'll cease to become you.......it sucks the life blood out of you, and makes you into an empty shell. That's why I was so surprised when you suggested this break! I was so glad......it makes me believe there's hope for you.....you're not beyond repair, I'm so happy you've done this Malcolm, I really am! It's lovely."   
"Well, fuck me.....I......intended....."

It was at that moment the lights went out. 

 

oOo

"Has a fuse blown?" Sam nuzzled his neck.   
"No fucking idea......peep outside, can you see if any of the other houses have lights on?"   
She released him, and did as he suggested.   
"It's pitch black everywhere!" She announced.   
Malcolm lit more candles.   
"Well, as romantic as it is, if it doesn't come back on there'll be no Christmas dinner!"   
Padding down the hall to the kitchen, the flickering flame held aloft in front of him, he decided to pull another rabbit out of the hat.  
Hot chocolate with marshmallows......at least the cottage had a gas stove! 

By the time he was done, Sam was sitting in the firelight, staring intently at the burning embers.   
She looked up at him as he carried the two steaming mugs into the warm, soft glow of the living room.   
"Wow! You are really pulling out all the stops aren't you? I feel like I'm living inside the John Lewis Christmas TV advert."   
He sat down on the rug next to her, and she leaned into him, with a sigh.   
"All things aside Malcolm, this is really nice! Thank you so much!" She smiled up at him dreamily, and fuck, there went his brain again. Turned into soup.   
Fucked! He was completely fucked.   
Couldn't even formulate a smart riposte.   
Nothing. Not a word.   
Bollocks! 

oOo

The king bed was enormous.   
Snuggled in the middle of it, enveloped in a feather duvet and soft downy pillows.   
Malcolm kissed her like he meant it. And oh, fuck, he did. He really, really did.   
Her lips tasted like honey against his own, she traced the line of the vein on his forearm with her finger tip and it made him shiver.   
It was as if he were melting, coming unraveled, overwhelmed by the scent and feel of her, everything about her; her hair, her skin, her hands, the little dip of her throat where her collarbones met, the crease of her elbow, the silky warmth of her thighs, the mounds of her breasts, so beautiful in the candlelight.   
Intoxicating......hypnotic......wonderful.   
There was nothing Malcolm could do to hold back, no way on earth he could prevent himself from tipping over, falling and falling, into the abyss, being out of control.   
Completely lost in the depth of those eyes, that sensual mouth, the scorching heat of her sex, the way she moaned and writhed beneath him, then flipped him over, seemingly without effort, settling herself astride him, riding him, plunging and rising rhythmically, taking him inside her fully, making him see stars with the intensity of her desire. His eyes shut tight now, throat constricted, feeling that prickle seeping through his unbridled arousal ready to burst.   
His mouth fell open, and she leaned forwards to capture it with her own, her nipples hard against his chest, allowing him more room to thrust upwards, hot magma rising from the volcano, then the searing flow of his semen, like an eruption, spurting, spilling into her, the foreign, guttural sound of his own voice, almost unrecognisable, words leaving him like incantations, a mantra offered up to the gods of passion......invoking and thanking them for allowing him this almost spiritual moment.   
"Fuck! Fuck! Sam! Oh fuck!" He suppressed a yell, coming and coming, the moment stretched out by her own release, his breath almost gone, temples throbbing, reaching up his hands for her, trying to find something solid to cling to, to hold fast, as everything turned to papier maché around him.  
"Sam! Fuck! I love you......fucking hell!"   
Stilled, and silent, the only sound now, their mingled ragged breathing and the pounding of their two hearts.   
Malcolm's emotions shot to hell.   
A mess. Sobbing.   
Fuck.......just what he sought so desperately to hide, to keep from her.   
'Keep it casual Malc, it doesn't mean anything. She doesn't feel the same. She's young, you're a grizzled old bastard, it's never going to happen. Don't make a cunt of yourself.'  
FUCK!   
Now he had. 

oOo

She'd not spoken. Nothing. Certainly not said it back. She never would.   
Maybe she hadn't heard. In the heat of the moment.   
What a tosser! Now he'd spoilt everything.   
And it was Christmas.  
SHIT! 

"Malcolm!" Her voice was soft, dreamy, reaching him as if from far away. She didn't roll away, as he softened and slid from her.   
She didn't move. Her body laying heavy along the length of his, he could feel her breasts, the wetness between her legs, the trail of her hair against his face and neck, as she raised her head slowly.   
Her hands were on his cheeks, framing them, the thumbs against his cheek bones, the glint in her eyes from the candle, as they looked down into his.   
"Malcolm!" She whispered again. "Please don't cry! Please.....you're breaking my heart. Please don't! Tell me why?"   
"I ffuucckkked up!" He snivelled, unable to form words coherently. 

Didn't want her to look at him, didn't want to look at her. 

"Malcolm! You haven't fucked up! You are wonderful. I love you. More than I can ever say." Her face was inches from his own, her breath against his lips, her thumb still caressing there.  
"What? You do? Since when? You've never said." He gave a louder sniff.   
Sam rolled to the side of him, her arm over his middle.   
"I wasn't sure if you.......I was afraid to say anything. Our lives are always so manic. I didn't know what you wanted from this, from us!"   
She smiled, shyly.   
"Fuck! Sam! I was fucking shitting bricks there....have been for a while. Christ on a bendy bus!" Relief flooded through him. 

"Happy Christmas Malcolm!" She whispered, then snuggled against him, as close as she could, as they both drifted into a hazy sleep.

oOo

Malcolm was dreaming.   
He was Jacob Marley.   
Dragging a thick heavy chain.......weighing him down.   
The huge metal links cut into his shoulders, wound tight around his legs, making it difficult to move.   
His arms felt like lead. All around him were similar people. Miserable, stressed, gaunt and half crazed, much like himself.   
Unable to break free, starved of everything that made life worth living.   
Shut off from the real comfort, not of material things, but of warmth and love and joy.   
The more he tried to unravel himself, the deeper he became entangled. Until he sunk down to his knees, no longer able to bear the enormous weight. 

The scene changed, fading out of existence, a mist descended, and, as is common in dreams, he found himself somewhere entirely different.   
Inside a perspex box.   
Large enough for him to stand upright. Narrow, so that when he stretched out his hands, they touched either side.   
The walls soared above his head, the sides smooth and shiny. Impossible to climb out. No purchase or foothold to be found.   
Linked chains still encircled him. Making it difficult to stand.  
From above, water began to pour.   
A cascade, over his head, drenching him. It was icy cold. Making him gasp.   
Gradually the tank began to fill. Before many minutes it reached his knees.   
Rising panic consumed him. The chains would hold him down, he would drown.   
As the water reached his chest, he started to cry out, and struggle vainly against his fetters.   
The gesture was futile. The water reached his neck, he took one last despairing breath.......crying out.  
"SAM!!!" 

He woke. Damp and cold. Still struggling for air.   
Sam was sitting up beside him, a glass of water in her hand.   
Her face full of concern.   
"Fuck!" He whispered, shivering.   
He took the glass from her with a trembling hand, and drank thirstily. Setting the empty tumbler on the beside table.   
"It's okay sweetie! I'm here!" She pulled him to her, and he clung there, unable to do anything else other than suck in great lungfuls, trying to regain his equilibrium.   
"That was some nightmare." She whispered into the side of his neck. "Does that happen often?"  
"All the time, but this one's a first." His voice was reed thin, no more than a rasp.   
"Good news, by the way.....the power is back on!"   
Sam drew her legs back into the bed, and Malcolm curled into her warmth with a relieved sigh.   
"Thank you!" He murmured.  
"What for?"   
"For being here......for agreeing to come.......I'm so grateful." He let out a little sob, as she held him tighter.  
"Malcolm, why haven't we done this before? Why have we held back all this time? Circling around each other, being so casual, when all the time we were both missing this.....desperately wanting more?" She kissed the top of his head as it rested against her breast.   
"Too scared. Fuck! Sam, I need this right now.......I just.......I just......hold me, yeah?"  
"Shhhh! Malcolm, don't get upset. We know now, we know where we are. It's all good. We're good. Try to go back to sleep."   
He burrowed into her, his face damp where his skin touched hers. It was like holding a coat stand, all angles and knobbly bits, no meat on his bones.  
Settling himself, one leg now draped across hers, he slept like a distraught child being cradled by its mother.   
If he'd put his thumb in his mouth she wouldn't have been surprised, she stroked his back soothingly, as his breathing began to even out, deepen, his body relaxing, sinking into a limp elastic torpor. 

oOo

Morning sunshine peeped through the curtains.  
There had been a sharp frost in the night, everywhere was cold and bright, sparkling with a crisp, clear peppermint chill.   
The tops of the window ledges looked like iced buns, a layer of white frosting covering every surface.   
Malcolm woke with the herald of the new day.   
Christmas Day.   
Sam was beside him, still in his arms. Her hair splayed out across the pillow. Eyelids fluttering slightly as she dozed.   
As if aware that she was being observed, she opened her eyes, coming slowly back to wakefulness, stirring and stretching like a cat.   
"Happy Christmas Sam!" He smiled wistfully, just a hint of sadness in his steel blue eyes.   
Raising herself, she met his lips and they kissed deeply.   
"Merry Christmas to you!"

Within ten minutes they were sitting up in the bed with mugs of tea.   
"I have something for you." Sam reached into her bag and bought out a wrapped gift.   
Quite what she read in Malcolm's face at that moment, she wasn't sure.   
Emotions flickered there in rapid succession, anticipation.......hope......longing.......trepidation. There was a tremor of expectation about him that she'd never seen before.   
He took the present, holding and turning it over in his long delicate fingers.   
"What is it?" His voice was barely audible, he was afraid. Normally that terror would be painted over and smothered with swearing, shouting and bluster, but this morning he was like a newborn baby, everything stripped away, terribly vulnerable, years of armour plating ripped from him. Unguarded, unprotected, and deeply in love.   
"Open it!" She urged, smiling.   
His hands shook as he unwrapped it. Cuff links, monogrammed with his initial, a green emerald, the symbol of rebirth, in one corner, unique, carefully chosen.   
"I don't know what to say! I've never been given anything this personal before, not ever. They're wonderful. And I don't deserve it, thanks Sam!"   
He glanced up at her, bashful, unsure. She gave him a kiss for his trouble.   
"You're welcome. Glad you like them." Her eyes swam, seeing his delight.   
"I'll always wear them, every day. And I'll remember this morning as long as I live." His voice faded, as he struggled to recover himself. 

"I have something for you too!" He rallied himself only with a monumental effort, rising and crossing to his suitcase.   
A small bag, containing a box.   
"I wasn't sure what you'd like, the lady in the shop was very helpful, she asked me if the gift was for someone who was my wife, or a girlfriend......."  
Sam watched his face intently.   
"What did you say?" She ventured.  
"I said, I very much hoped so!"   
He took both her hands in his own, clasping them tightly.  
"Sam......I wasn't even sure if I was going to give it to you.......a lot depended on how this break went. It wasn't a sudden thing, a quick decision, and if it's not what you want I understand, I won't be angry or anything. And if you don't want anything official, that's fine......it's just that I.......well, I wanted to.......and Now I'm being a total prick and you probably think I'm completely nuts and I ..........."  
"Malcolm! Hush, you're rambling!" She held a finger against his lips, arresting his words, calming him.   
"Say, what it is you want to say.......no guff........just say it......!"  
As she spoke she unwrapped the tiny parcel and the contents revealed. So captivated was she, by its beauty, she hardly noticed him sliding down beside the bed onto one knee.   
A diamond ring, sparkling in the morning sunlight.   
Sam looked up into his earnest eager face. Almost boyish in its intensity. Taking her left hand in his gently.   
"Sam, will you marry me? I know I'm a miserable fucker, and I don't deserve........"  
"Yes, Malcolm! I will marry you." She interrupted, with a stifled sob, throwing her arms around his neck. 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Really hope it was worth the wait Petersgal! Sorry it's taken so long!! Xx


End file.
